


In Service to Vesuvia

by witchboywriting



Category: The Arcana (Visual Novel)
Genre: (in chapter three), Love Triangle, M/M, Mild Blood, Slow Burn
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-08-01
Updated: 2020-02-22
Packaged: 2020-07-28 17:14:12
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 9
Words: 12,791
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20067628
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/witchboywriting/pseuds/witchboywriting
Summary: “Do you enjoy music?” He asked, whispering so softly that you could feel his breath on your hand as he grabbed ahold of it. You nodded in response, hardly taking your eyes off Julian long enough to answer him, only taking notice as Valerius quickly reached a hand up to brush a piece of your hair behind your ear.Maybe you should have been paying more attention to Valerius, maybe it would have been for the best, but there was something about seeing Julian in this new light that caught your attention, that made you see him for who he really was, that made your heart pound.You could see it now...if ever there was a time you would fall from your master's service it would be now and if there was ever a man to make your question your loyalty it would be Julian.





	1. There He Was

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks for taking the time to read my work!  
If you wish to make a request, they can be made [here!](https://witchboy-writing.tumblr.com/ask)
> 
> To find me on all my social media accounts, make sure to check out my [carrd](https://witchboy-writing.carrd.co/)
> 
> Thanks again!

It was early in the morning, but time all seemed to blend together for you. You had begun work in the midst of the night and you continued it now. The position of the sun had no say on when you stopped or started, it merely provided light for you as you made way towards the palace’s library to complete the daily task of gathering the books and texts your master, the Consul Valerius, needed for his job as a palace courtier.

You were certain before, when you had originally been given this task, it was for show. Valerius rarely studied the texts and hard-covers you had brought him for long back then. He was the type to listen to the words of gossip and participate in conversation to gather his information. Studying was not his forte. However, with the Count having fallen sick with the plague in recent times the Courtiers had become more prominent in the running of the kingdom, and, if it was for show before, it certainly was not anymore.

The library was normally empty at these early hours of the morning, and your master had normally taken it upon himself to wake up to some decry by now. In your mind, these were the best hours to return your masters unwanted texts and bring him new ones to study over. However, the library was far from empty today.

When you had reached the second level of the library you had taken notice of a desk on the left corner in use.  
If you could call sleeping over it ‘in use’.

A man, likely in his twenties with flowing, curled red hair and disheveled clothes and papers, lied there. He was asleep and likely had been all through the night. His eyes looked heavy, as though he had tried to work late into the night and failed to do so.

Normally, you did not concern yourself with such people. You had been given a task, and you felt it was best to complete it without the distractions of anyone or anything else, but there was something about this man. Maybe it was the way he slept so heavily or the small hum he gave as you drew closer to him, but you had to certain he was alright, that he was healthy.

You reached out a hand, placing it on his shoulder, leaning in closer. You were not certain what you had planned to do. Where you to question him? To wake him? However, you did not have even a moment to formulate a plan as the man jumped to action the moment you touched him, grabbing you by the wrist as though you were a threat to him.

You did not flinch at such behavior. This kind of behavior (the kind that was demanding, that let you ‘know your place’) was the only kind you ever saw as a servant of the palace. However, this man was different. He did not question you or harm you, his eyes simply went wide in shock at his own actions and he let you go, whipping out a quick apology and rubbing the tired state from his eyes, “I apologize. I did not mean to grab you like that. An old habit, I suppose.”

A look of concern grew on your face. This man was clearly on his own. He was not a noble as you had previous thought him to be. He did not have servants or a team or anyone to care for him. “No need to look so worried.” He says with a laugh, “I have woken up in much stranger places.”

You had half a mind to leave him alone. After all, you both clearly had tasks to complete and, now that you knew he was not on the verge of death, you were not needed. However, he continued to take an interest in you.

“What is your name?” He asked, and you half expected him to lay another hand on you, to call you over to him like he had the _right_ to ask you to work for him. Instead, he took the jacket that laid over his shoulders off, throwing it over you in a heartbeat, “You look tired.” He continued, “Would you like to sit for a moment?” And now you were captivated by him.

No one had ever asked how you felt. No one had ever taken the time to analyze you, to look you in the eyes and see your feelings and needs and wish to treat them. “I promise to be quiet and let you rest if that is what you’d like.”

You stood quiet still, not saying a word, but that did not scare him away.  
“Or,” the man continued, “If you’d like, I have more than a few _grand_ tales I could tell to help you fall asleep. If you thought finding me asleep at _this desk_ was odd wait until you hear about the time I-”

“I can’t.” You said. You swore you would not speak to him, but you could not let him continue. You could not let this man (who had been so sweet, so kind) gets his hopes up without a word from you, “I have to get back to my master. He is not a patient man.”

He nodded. You could tell he was disappointed, you could tell he simply wanted someone to speak to. It was as though he had been locked here for far too long without the company of another, and with each passing moment after you had shut him down he looked more and more weak and broken.

There was a part of you (a nagging voice) begging you not to say anything more, but you could not leave him like that.  
You reached out, placing a hand on his shoulder. He looked up at you, amazement in his eyes as you smiled.  
“I am here every morning.” You said, “My master works for the palace, for the Count. He requires a lot of books and texts to study upon. Maybe I will see you then?” And with the way the man smiled at you, you could only _hope_ to see him again.


	2. the library's doctor

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> You were certain Julian sought out any company he could get, not caring who gave it to him as long as he got it. And, if you had asked him at the time, Julian would have agreed with an embarrassed blush. However, as time went on, it was made clear to both of you that both yourself and Julian only wanted the company of one another through these hard times…_no one else would suffice._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> enjoyed this work? want more? requests can be made [here](https://witchboy-writing.tumblr.com/ask)
> 
> want to see updates on my stories? see how things are going? give opinions on what I should write next? hear my rants? follow me [here](https://witchboy-writing.tumblr.com/ask) on tumblr, love.

The days to come had been just as you promised the man in the library, whose name you had recently discovered was Julian Devorak, a doctor summoned to the castle after the Count had taken ill, tasked with the job of finding a cure for the plague. It was a big task. Many had been called to help complete it, but Julian played it off as though it was nothing, as though it would be managed in a matter of days.

“We will figure it out. All in due time.” He would say. You would nod in response, as if he spoke the truth, as if you believed his peace.  
But every morning you would wake him from his sleep at his desk. You knew he was tired, worried, burdened. The palace had worked him half to death, you could see that, though he refused to say it.

Yet, despite Julian’s condition, he continually offered to let you rest with him and allow him to tell you a story. You had always denied his request, of course, reminding him of your impatient master, but Julian did not mind. He would talk with you nonetheless, carrying your books in his arms and walking the library with you, telling you stories as you gathered. At first you were certain he simply sought out any company he could get. Which, if you had asked him at the time, he would have agreed with an embarrassed blush. However, as time went on, it was made clear to both of you that both yourself and Julian _only_ wanted the company of one another through these hard times….no one else would suffice.

Julien enjoyed you. You did not speak to him much, not even returning his greetings when you would walk into the library in the morning, in fear of what would happen if your master had found out, but he always said he could read your expressions. He claimed to always know what you were thinking.

“...And then they let me walk away, scotch free. Isn’t _that_ fantastic?” He had said, coming to the end of another one of his grand tales. You would always give him the same baffled and sceptical look as his stories came to a close, “Oh don’t look at me like that.” He would say. “It _is_ true...at least for the most part. You cannot deny a man the ability to embellish a bit. That’s where all the fun lies.”

Julian understood your silence. He may have been far from enslaved now, but he could vividly remember times when he lacked free will, when he knew it was better to remain silent than have spoken your mind. He knew you did not belong to yourself, that you were not permitted to him, that you were loyal to the castle and whomever it was you served, and he respected that. He cared for you and enjoyed your company nonetheless, always bidding your a good morning and goodbye at the beginning and end of each visit.

“Will I see you again tomorrow?” He would always ask with a gleam in his eye as he held the library door open for you, placing the last of your master's texts in your capable hands.

At first you had simply nodded to him, refusing to speak a word, knowing how your master was when it came to you. You hardly belonged to him but he was possessive and hot-tempered, as though you were his property to claim.

After a time, however, it burned you not to speak with Julian, to not give him all the love and thought and care he had given you.  
So, maybe it would be breaking your masters rules and the palaces rules alike, but you _had_ to promise him a tomorrow together. _You just had too._

“I will see tomorrow, Dr. Devorak.” You said, with a voice as smooth as honey, a voice Julian longed for more and more each rare time you had used it, “Have a good night.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> comments don't pay the bills, but they certainly make me happy.


	3. the count's last party (and yours too)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> It was a rare move for Valerius, to sit back and do nothing. It was a move he had to train himself time and time again to do when it came to you, but he did not see the training as fruitless, because Valerius knew, if it all came down to you, he could trust you more than anyone else. You were his star.
> 
> _He will not let me down_, Valerius thought, _He won’t_…...and then you spoke.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> enjoyed this work? want more? requests can be made [here](https://witchboy-writing.tumblr.com/ask)
> 
> want to see updates on my stories? see how things are going? give opinions on what I should write next? hear my rants? follow me [here](https://witchboy-writing.tumblr.com/ask) on tumblr, love.

The Count has invited everyone to a party of sorts. It was last minute, extravagant, in poor taste and, according to your master-  
“Everything that describes Lucio.”

Your master had been invited, of course, but hardly wanted to go.  
“I am not in the mood.” He had said, and you believed that was the truth. Valerius often detested things simply because he did not wish to do them, because he thought other things would be of more entertainment to him, of more value. However, at the end of Valerius’ endless battle between going and not, he eventually did decide to attend, but only after insisting you attend with him.

It was common for Nobles and Courtiers to bring servants with them, especially those of higher wealth and importance, so you did not stop even for a moment to question Valerius’ intentions, though many of his other servants were clearly questioning it themselves.

“Maybe it would be best to attend with someone else.”

You had not wanted to say it, but you had to. You had to detest to the ongoing rumors that had spread in Valerius’ service. You had to deny what was likely a reality: that you were Valerius’ favorite among the group.

It was not that you hated being cherished by him. Valerius was not your own, but he rested in your heart and on your mind nonetheless. He was the only one in your life whom you had come to care for. Valerius was yours at heart, no matter what anyone else said or felt, but you had grown tired of seeing the angered, dark stares from each and every servant under Valerius when he choose you time and time again, and you would be unable to live with yourself if you had gone without even trying to stop them.

However, Valerius did not see things the way you did.  
“What did you just say?” He asked, and you struggled to speak, “Do you not wish to be seen with me? Is that it? I thought you would rather enjoy this party, but I suppose if you are going to have that kind of attitude-”

“That is not what I meant.” You shouted with a bow, “I simply thought you may wish to spend your time with someone else...a servant different than you normally do.”

Valerius hummed, standing from his seat, making his way towards you and forcing you to stand straight, no longer bowing in apology before him. He looked into your eyes, placing himself so close to you that you had no choice but to do the same, “I said that I wanted you to come with me. No one else.” He said, leaning down close to you, grabbing ahold of your hand secretively, carefully so no one else would see, “No matter what it is they have to say on the matter.”...and that was when you knew for certain the rumors were true. Valerius was taking his favorite to the party.

You both showed up late, which you apologized ten-fold for, though both Valerius and yourself knew it was his own fault for taking far too long to decide whether he would be attending or not.

“Festivities are never good at the start anyway.” He said in response, and he was right, of course. As you looked around the room it was clear to you that you had come at the best time. Large groups of people stood in various areas of the room with wine in hand, chatting and laughing, all having a good time. The food was still plentiful. The event was as lively as one would have expected from a party thrown by the Count himself, “It would have been a bore to be here any earlier.” Valerius said, and, as a melody began to hum through the air, you could not help but _know_ he was right.

Music had never interested you before, but there was something about this noise that filled the party. It felt like more than just music. It was played with a passion you had never heard before. It was magical. It was breathtaking. You found yourself captivated by it.

Your followed the sound, scanning the room until your eyes landed on the musician himself: _Julian_  
He stood in the center of the room with a Vielle in hand, playing for all to hear. The music was lovely. He was lovely, but this sight was shocking to you.

When you thought of Julian you thought of his time in the palace. You thought of a kind man, a doctor. ‘Musician’ was never a title that came to mind. Yet, the more you thought about it the more sense it seemed to make. Julian was a storyteller, a musician, _an entertainer_, and he was brilliant at it. He had, after all, done nothing but make you smile since you had met him.

Valerius noticed your gaze. He saw the enjoyment in your eyes (an enjoyment he could only assume was caused by the music), so he began walking, heading towards the sound closer and closer, taking a seat on a nearby cabriole sofa, allowing you to stand beside him and watch for a brief moment, pretending it was of interest to him.

“Do you enjoy music?” He asked, whispering so softly that you could feel his breath on your hand as he grabbed ahold of it.  
You nodded in response, hardly taking your eyes off Julian long enough to answer him, only taking notice as Valerius quickly reached with hand to brush a piece of your hair behind your ear.

Valerius hummed, amused by your amazement. However, when the song ended his tone changed entirely.

Julian took a bow, his eyes scanning the room, thanking the happy party-goers and listeners when, suddenly, his eyes landed on Valerius and then on you. You had said you had a master time and time again, but Julian had hardly expected it to be Valerius himself. However, the more he thought about it the less surprised he became. You _had_ described your master as impatient and demanding and there was no doubt Valerius had those qualities ten-fold.

“Ah, it is good to see you!...and you Valerius.” Julian said, hardly even pretending to care for Valerius’ company.

“You know him?” Valerius asked Julian, pointing to you with wine glass in hand, reaching the other over the back of the sofa, grabbing ahold of your wrist like he was a careful watch-dog and Julian was an incoming beast.

Julian nodded with a smirk on his face, as if he knew Valerius would be upset by it, as if he wished to rub it in his face, “I see him each morning in the library.” He responded, turning his attention back to you, “And how are you doing, dear?”

Valerius wanted to scream, to grip your hand tighter, to set Julian ablaze, and run off with you without another word, but he didn’t. Instead, Valerius let you go, taking a sip of his wine, taking in a deep breath, and trusting you. It was a rare move for Valerius, to sit back and do nothing. It was a move he had to train himself time and time again to do when it came to you, but he did not see the training as fruitless, because Valerius knew, if it all came down to you, he could trust you more than anyone else. You were his star.

_He will not let me down_, Valerius thought, _He won’t_…...and then you spoke.

“I am well, Doctor. I had no idea you played the Vielle.” You said, curious, full of a sense of excitement Valerius had never seen from you. Your eyes glistened and gleamed as Julian took your hand in his own, placing a kiss to your knuckles with a quick response.

“I am full of surprises.” He said, and it was then that Valerius finally lost it.

It was quiet at first, muffled by flesh and the party’s banter and noise, but you _had_ heard it: the sound of a shattering glass. It was not until Valerius loosened his hand, releasing his fist, letting the glass shards hit the floor that the noise became loud enough to draw a crowd. Your eyes and the eyes of many others nearby turned to Valerius, who looked far from pleased as he glared at the ground with the remnants of his shattered wine glass in hand, his blood and ruined wine dripping to the floor, a low and quiet growl escaping his lips.

Julien was shocked. He had known Valerius would be displeased with your relations with one another, but he had not known Valerius to be the type to grow violently angry. In Julian’s mind, Valerius was simply another Lucio: _all bark and no bite_. However, when Valerius grabbed onto your wrist with the same hand that he had covered in blood and wine, dragging you away from the party, he saw Valerius for what he really was, and it became clear to Julian that he had just made a mistake.

Valerius ran you back to his room. You had begged him to stop, to let you explain, but he did not say a word. He merely continued pulling you along-side of him, letting his sticky palms of blood and red wine drip down your arm.

He ran through his door, closing it with a slam and suddenly all eyes were on him.  
“Out.” He said with you still in hand, and each servant that was hard at work for him let their eyes wonder to your red dripping wrist before running out of the room like a tide had just come in. The moment the last servant left his room and the door was shut, he turned his attention back to you, gripping onto you tighter before slamming you against the wall.

“What was that?” He asked, and before you could even answer Valerius was jumping from conclusion to conclusion until he assumed the worst, “You love him don’t you?”

Valerius was broken, betrayed. His rage was growing, but he had not realized it himself until he got a good look you (the way you shut your eyes in fear, the way you hid your head behind your arms, the blood and wine (both his own) dripping down your flesh). It hit Valerius then that he had done it again, he had lost his cool. His anger would be his downfall, and this was the start of it.

He took a deep breath, and when he felt that he was stronger, that his anger he reseeded, he reached out a hand. You flinched from it, but it was gentle. He meant you no harm as his cold, wet hand came to rest on your cheek, “You do not belong to him. You cannot belong to him. You know that, don’t you?” You nodded in response, “You belong to the castle and, in turn, you belong to me.” You nodded again, feeling the drying wine and cool blood trickle down your jaw line and down your throat.

“Good.” He said, and, for a moment, you thought you were safe, that you were in the clear...then he spoke.  
“But don’t think this goes without punishment.”

You knew from the look in his eyes that this was far from over, that he could hardly forgive you that easily, that he felt anything but content and happy, that you would pay for your transgressions ...and you did.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> comments don't pay the bills, but they certainly make me happy.


	4. locked away

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “I promise you, Valerius, I do not love him.” you said,  
and Valerius was shocked not by the words themselves, but that you have the guts to say them

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> enjoyed this work? want more? requests can be made [here](https://witchboy-writing.tumblr.com/ask)  
  
want to see updates on my stories? see how things are going? give opinions on what I should write next? hear my rants? follow me [here](https://witchboy-writing.tumblr.com/ask) on tumblr, love.

You could hear the door open and close, your master entering through it.

It had been a day...maybe a day and a half...maybe two, but you found that highly unlikely. However, it was hard to tell from the small corner of the room where you had been under lock and key like an untrained puppy...you were pouting like one too. Your cheeks were red and your eyes sore from tears. When Valerius walked in the room all you could do was look him, hoping and praying he would decide to take pity on you today and come sit by your side unlike the day before.

Valerius had not made a decision when he walked into the room. He had thought about it all day. It had plagued his mind like an infection, but he could not make a decision. Yet, the moment he saw you he knew what it was he wanted, what was best.

He released a sigh, setting down his glass on the table and making his way over to you, kneeling by your side, grabbing ahold of your chin, running his fingers along the bone, making certain you are looking at him. You felt so much regret, so much sadness, such a strong desire to please Valerius, mixed with the knowledge that you had failed to do so and before Valerius could even speak you were jumping down his throat with apology after apology.

“I promise you, Valerius, I do not love him.” you said, and Valerius was shocked not by the words themselves, but that you have the guts to say them, “I pass him in the library each day when I go to pick up your books, that is all. He always greets me as I enter, but I have never once so much as returned his kind words. You may ask him for yourself if you do not believe me, Valerius.”

He knew you are telling the truth. He could tell by the way your eyes were pricking up with tears again, but he showed no sign of it. “You are just saying this so I will let you go, isn’t that right? Isn’t that what you want?”, Valerius knew, but he was testing you.

“I want to be let go.” You said, and for a moment Valerius was both angry and proud of himself.  
Valerius had expected so much more from his long-claimed favorite, but he knew he shouldn’t have. He knew he was right not to trust you. Valerius had a gut feeling about you from the moment the two of you met (his head would hurt and his palms would sweat and his heart would pound). But what bothered Valerius most about you was that, deep down, he was certain your morals aligned with everyone else's, and all you wanted was something from him. You did not want to be with him, to help him, to serve him or the palace, you simply wanted what his affections could buy you. Everyone else did, so why not you too? There was no way you were are wonderful as you seemed. It was impossible, or so Valerius thought.

However, just as Valerius was ready to walk away once more, you spoke.  
“I cannot serve you from here. I cannot fulfill my purpose, Valerius. _Please_.” you whispered, “_please let me serve you again_.” and Valerius began to feel his heart pound in a way he had noticed he only felt when you spoke of standing by his side, serving him, loving him.

He could not help but take your chin in hand again and caress your cheek with his thumb as he asked, “Do you mean that?” and you nodded your head so hard you thought your neck might snap.

You were worried, burdened. It had only been a day, but it hurt you to not have the chance to fulfill your purpose, and you could tell it hurt Valerius just as much to see you locked away. He hardly wanted to hurt you, to see you broken, to punish you, so he did the only thing he could think to do, the only thing he knew would remove the pout from your lips and the red from your eyes.

Valerius leaned in close, placing a kiss under each reddened eye just before leaning into your lips.  
Your breath was stolen from you. Any panic you felt was gone in an instant. All your worry had vanished. Valerius had taken it all from you, while taking you back into his arms.

Even after your panic had faded, Valerius kept you close. Even as you began to reciprocate, kissing him back, leaning it close, Valerius did not stop. He continued, slow and gentle and passionate. It was the kind of kiss that says ‘I have missed you’, but not the kind that says ‘I love you back’, but that was normal when it came to affection from Valerius, and it was not the first time he had kissed you that way.

“Now let's get you out of these chains. I do not want to spend another moment with Agatha.”  
You smiled, almost laughed at the thought of Valerius having to spend even a day with her as his main in service. If anything, this punishment was not a test of _your_ strength but of _his_. The man hated that servant more than anything. He had, on many an occasion, expressed to you how each and everything about her was, somehow, _the most_ annoying and rage-fueling thing he had ever encountered: her voice, her smile, her attitude, even the way she walked.

“Annoying little bug.” He said under his breath, clearly still thinking about how terrible things had been without you. And, somehow, that made you forget about your punishment, the way he had bound your wrists like an animal in need of caging, the way he had avoided you, wrecked you emotionally...suddenly it was all forgotten as he unlocked the last of your chains and helped you stand, caressing your check once more and saying, “Welcome home.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> comments don't pay the bills, but they certainly make me happy.


	5. julian's concern

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> You came to the library doors, pausing, taking a deep breath just before letting it out again.  
Julian would be there. You could practically guarantee it. You would be your life on it.  
_Gods_, you hoped you were wrong...

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> enjoyed this work? want more? requests can be made [here](https://witchboy-writing.tumblr.com/ask)
> 
> want to see updates on my stories? see how things are going? give opinions on what I should write next? hear my rants? follow me [here](https://witchboy-writing.tumblr.com/ask) on tumblr, love.

You came to the library doors, pausing, taking a deep breath just before letting it out again.  
Julian would be there. You could practically guarantee it. You would be your life on it.  
_Gods_, you hoped you were wrong...

As you opened the doors with a slam and heard the scraping of chair legs against the floor (so fast they could have burned it), you were certain you were right. And before you could even make it up the stairs Julian was there, waiting for you at the top, bouncing, tapping his foot to the ground with tears in his eyes threatening to run down his cheeks. He was impatient, nervous, yet endlessly thankful.

You managed to smile at him a bit, equally happy to see him and equally wishing you had not had to see him at all.  
However, Julian did not have wavering feelings, that much was clear to you the moment you came up the steps and he wrapped you in his arms. Julian knew what he wanted: to see you again, to be certain you were safe, to be certain you were happy.

“I thought you had- I thought he had-”  
You heart pounded as he spoke. You felt a wave of warmth and nerves, happiness and sadness all the same poured over you, and even after just one moment surrounded by Julian you could not handle it any longer.

“Well if you don’t want him to do so than I suggest you get off of me!” You shouted, and Julian was shocked.  
He let go of you in a flash, his eyes going wide as he got a good look at you. You looked tired and angry, he noticed, but you did not give him even a moment to comment on it as you pushed passed him, trudging over to the shelf that held the texts your master needed.

Julian followed you like a puppy, toying with the hem of his shirt and biting his tongue. He wanted to speak, to say something, but he was not sure what to say. He had missed you, worried for you even though it had only been a couple days since your last encounter. Julian could not help but feel like a fool. Julian thought, just maybe, he had worried and panicked for nothing. Even you were permitted to miss a day of book gathering and you had appeared to alright. At least, you had...until you extended your arm, reaching up to a shelf taller than yourself for your masters books, when the white sleeve of your shirt rolled up your arm, revealing the bruises that encircled your wrist. Julien was instantly by your side, grabbing ahold of you gently, holding you like you might break if he gripped too hard.

“What has he done?” Julian asked, and in that moment you had never seen Julian so pained, and it was not because he knew you were in pain, it was not because you had been hurt, it was because he knew you did not mind it.

“What he had to.” You answered, and Julian wanted to wrap you up in his arms and cry.  
He wanted to grab ahold of you and protect you, to take you away from all of this.

“He- He did this because of me?” Julian asked, tears pricking up in his eyes once more.

“No one is at fault, Julian.” You said, “Nothing bad happened. I am safe. You just- You do not know the whole story.”

Julian clenched his fists, the tears in his eyes faded as he went from a state of sadness to one of ultimate rage. How had you said such a thing so casually as though it was the truth, as if this was your normality? And to say that Julian did not know the entire story? That was ridiculous. After all, he was there when Valerius became enraged. He saw him shatter glass and cut flesh and if looks could kill Julian knew he would have burned in those moments. _He was there_!....so how was it he did not know the entire story?

“I thought you dead.” He said, and for the first time you felt guilty for the way you had always treated Julian. All the silence you had given him, all the moments you had ignored him ...Julian did not deserve a moment of your acrimony. After all, that was not how you felt for Julian. You did not wish to be harsh with him, to ignore him like he was a pesky stain in your life that you wished to be rid of.

“I know.” You whispered, “I am sorry.”

For the first time that morning, Julian believed you. For the first time that morning, he looked into your eyes and he did not see a man building a wall to keep him out. For the first time he saw you, the man he found himself so endlessly infatuated with.

“What did he do to you?” Julian asked, taking the books and scrolls from your hands and setting them at his desk just before grabbing each of your hands, placing each in his own. There was a gentle, kind, understanding look in his eyes. All the anger had faded and all the was left was concern, and, for the first time ever, you felt you could answer Julian, that you _wanted_ to answer.

“He kept me under lock and key, that is all. He did not hurt me in any way. He never has. Not once.  
It was just a simple punishment, hardly lasting a day, one he clearly regrets, one he has apologized for.”

Julian grabbed ahold of your wrists, gazing down at them so sharply it almost burned. He traced the ring-like markings over your wrists, and just as quickly as you had calmed him down he found himself inraged again, “He tied you down?”

“Do not say it like that, Julian.”

“Like what? Like he disrespects you? Like he hurt you? Because he did just th-”

You ripped your hands from Julian’s own, “He wouldn’t!” You shouted, and it was not until the words had escaped your lips that you realized how loud they had been. It wasn’t until you stepped away from Julian that you realized you had begun to cry, that tears had been falling down your flesh since Julian had grabbed your wrists, that you truly were hurt by Valerius, thought the pain was hardly physical.

“You love him.”  
Julian knew he should not have said it, but he did so without regret. Or, maybe it would be better to say that Julian _did_ feel regret, but he chose to ignore it. And he had done a damn good job ignoring what his gut had told him was wrong to say all until he saw the look on your face: shocked, angered, broken, yet it seemed like you were processing his words more than anything, like you were processing your feelings, asking yourself whether what he had said was true.

However, it was not that you were uncertain of your love for Valerius. You had known you loved him since you were assigned to serve him. No, it was not your own feelings that burned you, but the fact that Julian had dared to speak of them as though they were poisonous.

Julian had taken notice of your feelings, Valerious’ other servants had taken notice, his friends, and even Valerious himself, but no one had ever said it before...not even you had said it. It was as clear to you as the breath in your lungs, but that did not mean you had acknowledged it or that you wished to flaunt it. Yet, Julien said it like it was nothing, like it was a well known fact, like the two of you were beyond that of servant and master, like the love you felt was shared between the two of you.

“I-I don’t love him.”

“You love him, even though he does not love you back.”

You could feel your heart start to pound. You had been patient with Julian because, despite how it made you feel to say it (the burning that would ensue in your throat, the pounding of your heart, the butterflies in your stomach), you did care for him. For a long while Julian had been your rock. He had kept you steady and made you feel safe when no one else had, and you knew you had done the same for him, despite the way the two of you had danced around one another like you were nothing more than cohorts. However, you patience was wearing thin.

You clenched your fists, taking in a deep breath and letting it out, letting it calm you. You could not fight with Julian… you wouldn’t, no matter how much he had burned you now.

“I thought you were better than that, Julian. I thought you were different, but I was wrong. You are just like everyone else in this palace. I love him, Julian, and I will no longer regret or detest to such feelings, but the ones I had for you? They are as good as gone to me.”

Julian found himself at a loss for words. He did not know what to feel. How was it that you had detested him and confessed to him at the same time? How was it that Julian felt butterflies and felt his heart shattering all the same? Julian had to say something...he _wanted_ to say something, but he could not form even a single word, and, even if he could, you were in no mood to listen. Before Julian could even process it you had ripped your books from his desk at lightning speed and extended down the staircase, leaving the library with a slam of the door. Even as Julian called out your name you kept walking, running away from Julian, running back to Valerius.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> comments don't pay the bills, but they certainly make me happy.


	6. Valerius' comfort, his home

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> ”Eyes on me.” You heard Valerius purr, “I lost you for a moment. You best have a good reason.”  
He spoke with a smile and a hint of mockery to cover up his constant, needy wish for your attention.
> 
> “Just lost in thought of you.” You said. That was the first time you had lied to Valerius, and it made you feel sick.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> enjoyed this work? want more? requests can be made [here](https://witchboy-writing.tumblr.com/ask)
> 
> want to see updates on my stories? see how things are going? give opinions on what I should write next? hear my rants? follow me [here](https://witchboy-writing.tumblr.com/ask) on tumblr, love.

When you walked through the door and Valerius jumped you swore you would never walk in without announcing yourself again. Then again, you had never startled him before (no one had)....However, if there was ever a day for things to be out of the ordinary this was clearly it. After all, you had never found Valerius still in bed at an hour like this. Yet, there he was, tied in his robe with his hair still down. It was clear Valerius had not got up long enough to so much as eat or take a bath.

“At this hour?” You asked, a hind of mockery in your voice, feeling a bit bold.

Thankfully for you Valerius was in a good mood despite his late wake, “You were not here to wake me.” He said, though you could not recall waking him even once in the time you had worked for him under the palace. No one _had_ to wake him. Valerius might have had a list of bad habits, but he was well trained within them. He woke at the same time each morning, slept at the same time each night. He had a routine you could time with a stopwatch. Yet, he had broken it today.

“Was he there today?” Valerious asked, and sudden his late rise made sense to you.

“Yes.” You answered honestly, no longer wishing to hide a thing from Valerius.  
Valerius hated your answer, as you expected he would, but it was not because you had been honest, but because he knew he could do nothing about it. Julian had been summoned by the Count himself. There was nothing he could do or say to get rid of him. He had a lack of power here that he loathed.

Valerius wanted you away from Julian. He would pretend it was for your safety or to keep you from breaking the palace rules for servants and service, but truth be told, Valerius was wildly jealous. Ever since he saw the sparkle in your eyes when Julian spoke so fondly of you at the Count’s party he had a bitter taste in his mouth, one that no amount of wine could rid. Valerius knew the only way to stop such a taste was to be certain you were no longer with Julian, but it seemed there was no way he could do that.

He had considered every option and every outcome. Option One, which Valerius had already tested: Lock you up. However, Valerius knew from experience that doing so tore the both of you up inside. He could not do that again ...not to you at least. Anything that would cause you to cry like that was out of the question. Valerius was a tough, heartless man, but he could not stomach the sight of your tears, even after several cups of wine. Option Two: Send another servant to get his books. However, that would only result in them returning with the wrong ones or returning in twice the time it took you to do that task. No one knew that library like you did. Of course, Valerius could pull out option three: Demand you never speak with him again. Torture you, hurt you if you disobey ...but he could see the tears in your eyes already. It would bring you pain and it would not bring Valerius pleasure.

Valerius’ limited imagination had run dry there…what other option was there? If you could not be held back from the library and you could not be locked away for safekeeping then it seemed you were doomed to see Julian again and again ...and Valerius was doomed to worry about it, about you.

“I trust you kept it brief with him.” He said, slowly rising from his bed.  
You nodded in response. “He expressed concern for me, but I told him that he need not. He shouldn’t bother me again, Valerius.”

Valerious was quick to rise, wrapping his robe tighter around himself as he made his way towards you, taking a seat at his desk with the intention of examining the books you had brought him. However, the moment he hit the chair he found himself resting his head in his hands, rubbing his burning eyes, hardly finding the energy within himself to even glance at the materials you had brought him.

You drew close to him, placing you hands on his shoulders and, without so much as _considering_ asking him, you slowly traced them up his neck and into his hair, pulling at the strands and combing your fingers through them, removing all the tangles just before whipping it up into a bun. Valerius hummed as you did this, leaning into your touch, making it awfully hard to finish tying it up, but you knew he was tired and found solace in your hands, so you did not say a word about it.

“I need wine.” He said the moment he felt your fingers release from his hair.  
There was never a time that Valerius did, in fact, _need_ wine, but you always brought it to him when he asked, nonetheless, carefully pouring it in a glass and bringing it to him swiftly, as if you had expected his need before he had even asked.

You leaned down low, bending your back to get closer to the seated man to hand him his morning glass when, suddenly, something caught your eye. If you had not leaned so close to him you likely never would have saw it. However, you could see, in the room connected to Valerius’ chambers, were a set of dishes filled with fruits and a glass, likely previously filled with wine, that had been knocked to the maroon colored rug below. _It seemed Valerius had been out of bed this morning, after all._

You could have pretended to see nothing or imagined that a careless servant had knocked it over, but you knew the truth. Valerious had done this. You had seen it in him before: rage. When he snapped his wine glass the night of the party, when he locked you in his chamber for the night, and the tray that was now nothing more than shattered glass ahead of you...they were only small examples of his power, of his rage. He buried that rage deep down, only letting it loose when he was alone, when he could not take it anymore, when his worry was too strong to be comforted or forgotten, when he lacked power.

“Valerius?” You asked, and the man raised his head to look at you, “Wou- Would you like me to stay with you today?” You had never asked such a thing before and Valerious himself had only asked this of you a handful of times, but you could feel it: Valerious was going to blow. He was a volcano ready to erupt. The stress of his work, of his life, of _you_ had gotten to him. He needed this. You could tell.

Valerious stood, gazing down at you once more with a smile, reaching out to pet your head, “You would like that, wouldn’t you?”

“I would like to do whatever it is you need.” You said, and Valerious hummed, finding himself lost in thought of you.  
He had always found himself testing you, doubting you, even locking you away at the slightest inconvenience once. Yet, you had never failed to please him, to say what he wished to hear more than anything else. _Why did he doubt you so?_, he wondered.

“If you would like me to go, I may.”

“No.” He said, “Stay. Let _Agatha_ run errands for me today. I need you here.” Valerious stretched out a hand to your cheek, rubbing his thumb over it and down to your jaw and over to your lips. You leaned into every touch he would give you, your breathe and blush growing heavier as his hand moved down to your throat and brushed over your collar bone. “I need you here.” He said again, mumbeling it under his breath as if it was the only thought repeating in his mind.

You felt sick to your stomach, because all you could think of was Julian. How _stupid_ he had been to feel concern for you in the hands of Valerius. He knew _nothing_, you thought. He was clueless. He had wasted time caring for you, worrying about you, crying at the thought of you ...yet, no one had done that for you before. No one had asked how you felt. No one had wished the best for you.  
No one but Julian…

”Eyes on me.” You heard as you felt a hand reach to the back of your head, pulling your growing hair back soest how you were looking at Valerius once again. “I lost you for a moment. You best have a good reason.” He said with a smile and a hint of mockery to cover up his constant, needy wish for your attention.

“Just lost in thought of you.” You said, and that was the first time you had lied to Valerius, and it made you feel sick.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> comments don't pay the bills, but they certainly make me happy.


	7. Valerius' Little Lie

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “Stay with me.” He said, rising from his bed and making his way to where you stood in the window, wrapping his arms around your waist and pressing your form flesh against his front.
> 
> “I am with you, Valerius.”
> 
> “Longer.” He said, “Stay longer.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> enjoyed this work? want more? requests can be made [here](https://witchboy-writing.tumblr.com/ask)
> 
> want to see updates on my stories? see how things are going? give opinions on what I should write next? hear my rants? follow me [here](https://witchboy-writing.tumblr.com/ask) on tumblr, love.

Valerius had no control.  
Valerius planned everything. He could predict futures with how in-tune he was with his world. Nothing surprised him.  
Valerius was an angry man, but he used his anger to chisel away at the stone in front of him until it was a path into the life he desired.  
Valerius was powerful. He spoke for the count and the kingdom, he had riches and power any man his age would sell their soul for. He had a life any person alive would kill for and he had earned every bit of it. Every glass of wine, every decision he had made, every night in his warm bed Valerius had earned ten-fold. Yet, that same man had no control anymore.

Valerius could feel time slipping from him. He could see each grain of sand in his hands slipping between his fingertips and he tried to remain calm, he tried to catch them but the more he struggled the more fell from his grasp. Valerius, for the first time in a long time, was losing his grip on his world, and _it was all your fault._

Anyone who had spent even a moment with Valerius would blame the wine or his rage or the power-lust you could see in his eyes, but Valerius had always controlled such emotions. He had learned long ago that ridding himself of them was not the way, but controlling them would get him everything he had desired, so he did. Valerius drank and he bit his tongue and, slowly, he earned everything he ever could have dreamed of. Valerius _had_ control...he _did_...then you came along.

Valerius lived by one rule: stand alone.  
Valerius had seen many men’s lives fall to pieces because of something out of their control. He had seen their possessions, loyalties, jobs, and feelings take control of them and suddenly they were consumed by them. They were beaten and bruised and eaten alive and crushed beneath Lucio’s boots before they ever had the chance to become truly powerful, to feel the world in their hands. Valerius had seen too many men come and go in the court and the castle and he knew, even early on in his time in power, that he would not let that happen. He _couldn’t_ let that happen.

Valerius stayed away from women. He stayed away from the parties. He stayed away from drugs and pleasures and the only thing Valerius let himself dive into was a tall glass of wine. He shut down any other offer, he killed anything that got in his way, and Valerius stood alone. That, more than anything, was important. Then, Valerius met you.

“Stay with me.” He said, rising from his bed and making his way to where you stood in the window, wrapping his arms around your waist and pressing your form flesh against his front.

“I _am_ with you, Valerius.”

“Longer.” He said, “Stay longer.”

Valerius knew he was addicted. He knew you were sweeter than any food he had dined on, you were more tempting than any woman who had come his way, you were more powerful against him then any enemy he had ever faced, and you were stronger than any drug he had been offered. Valerius knew that anyone who was that strong, anyone who had that tight of a grip on him should be locked up, sent away, gotten rid of, _slane_. Valerius had promised himself long ago that if he ever had grown an addiction he would cut it off where it stood and he would never allow himself to mourn the loss. But Valerius was wildly and painfully addicted and infatuated with you and he knew, deep down, that he was never going to get rid of you.

“That may have sounded like a request, my boy, but it was anything but.” Valerius leaned in close, pressing a kiss to the nape of your neck just before dragging his glass to his lips, “You will spend as much time with me as I desire you to.”

“I hope I am not too much of a distraction to you.”

Valerius wanted to laugh just as much as he wanted to scream. His chest burned as much as it squirmed in pleasure. His grip on your hip and on the stem of his glass tightened and Valerius took in a deep breath. _Conceal_, he thought, _hide your emotions_ ...Valerius was an expert at this by now, after all.

“I am not a child.” He said, “I know how to multitask.”

You knew this well, Valerius knew you did. Anything you said was merely a courteous apology, one you did not owe him and never would, but you had been trained to give him in case all went wrong, in case he needed the reminder that his time and his life were more valuable than your own. Valerius hated the courtesies you had to offer him. He hated that you were a mere servant of the castle. There were days he wished he could buy you as his own and bind you to him. There were days he wished he could shower you in his love and lock you away with him. There were days his addiction was stronger than others and those were the days he knew he had gone too far. Those were the days he had to lock himself away from you for a while. Those were the days that hurt you both the most.

Yet, today, for reasons unknown to him, Valerius wanted to indulge in those feelings.  
Valerius wanted to hold you and touch you and care for you and keep you by his side for just a bit. Maybe it was your fault for offering to stay with him, to care for him, but Valerius wanted to treasure you and allow you to service him as you had always wanted to. He wanted, for just a little while, to live a lie with you, to imagine he owned you, that you were his, that there were no consequences involved in caring for you, so he did.

Valerius extended his hand, running it up your side and over your ribs and to your back, running it over every bone in your spine and raising a chill from you, “I have two hands, sweet boy. I can work with one and _play with the other_.”

Valerius knew it was a lie. He knew he had too much to balance, too much on his plate to do both, but when a groan escaped your lips and he watched a faint blush rose to your cheeks and your hand shot up to cover your lips, Valerius knew he had to keep you by his side. No matter the cost he had to have you, even if it was only for a while, even if it was forever (which was a thought Valerius loved to indulge in).

“React.” He said, “Speak, boy.”  
More than anything Valerius wanted to know what you were thinking. He could tell your mind was running a mile a minute. He could practically feel your pounding heart as he rounded his hand over your torso again and let it rest on your stomach. More than anything he wanted to know how you felt, what it was you wanted, _needed_, but you did not wish to tell him.

You were not virgin to Valerius’ wants, to his quick kisses and his want to hold and be held. However, Valerius had never been so close. He had never asked you to stay longer than a night and he had never touched you for more than a moment unless it was entirely without suggestion. Valerius had always been so very _different_, and now his hand was tracing patterns up and down your back and he set down his wine glass long enough to place both his hands on your shoulders and, as he sharply turned you body around to face him, it became clear to you that Valerius wanted much more than you had ever given him before. You were no longer a convenience to Valerius. You were no longer easy. Valerius wanted _love_ and, for the first time, he did not want to carry on unless it was from _you_.

Valerius raised a hand, letting it rest on your cheek and letting his thumb rub circles in your skin. Valerius hummed, and you could not tell whether it was a simple reaction or whether it was to bring you comfort, but it stopped the pounding of your heart, it made you feel as though you could breathe for the first time that night.

“I do not intend to hurt the only man in Vesuvia that brings me any semblance of joy. _React_. You are safe with me.”

You had never acted quickly when it came to Valerius. He was a man with a plan. He did not jump to feelings or interests or hope. He planned and then acted. He was the type of man that asked you to knock on his door and await a response before entering. He was the type of man you always asked before doing anything. You had always given out warnings and told him before so much as taking a step towards the door, because Valerius did not like the unknown. Valerius did not like rushed actions or surprises, but, for the first time in your time with the man, it was clear that Valerius did not want to plan. Valerius did not want hesitance. Valerius wanted you, raw and real and unplanned. He wanted you to act, so you did.

Your lips jumped to Valerius’ own so quickly it took him by surprise, _but he liked it_. He liked the way your hands grabbed at his form and he liked the way you tasted and he liked your tongue on his lips and he liked the feeling of melting away that you gave to him. Valerius liked you when you were sudden, when you were unapologetic, when you threw everything you had been taught out the window, when you both stood without labels or jobs or duties and you held onto one another like you would die if you let go.  
Valerius liked the lie he was living, but every lie had to come to an end.

Valerius let go, pulling your hands off of his form and pushing your two steps back, finding almost instantly that he missed the warmth, that it was cold standing alone.

You could see it in his eyes: Valerius was distressed.  
You could see it in his labored breaths and his heavy eyes. Something had come to bother him, but you knew better than to question it. Instead, you simply watched as Valerius took a seat at the window-sill. You watched as he stared out at the gardens and the rolling hills and the fields. You watched his chest rise heavily and slowly come back to a normal pace, you watched every angry crease in his face slowly fade out, and, eventually, Valerius was back to normal. Eventually, Valerius was pouring himself another glass of wine and watching the gardens as if nothing had happened, as if he had wished to _forget_ anything had happened.

Valerius turned towards you slowly, taking a sip of his wine and noting the nervousness in your eyes, noting how it had all been his fault, how his self-indulgence had already begun to hurt him, to hurt you, to tear down everything he had built, noting how this (you, your touch, your love..._his_ love) had to remain a lie or a good dream or a rarity, how he couldn’t have you, how he had made a mistake.

“The garden.” He said, “Let’s get some air.”  
And as Valerius walked you followed, not saying a word, letting Valerius end the lie you had lived.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> comments don't pay the bills, but they certainly make me happy.


	8. suffocation

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Julian was afraid. He could feel it on him: the plague.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> enjoyed this work? want more? requests can be made [here](https://witchboy-writing.tumblr.com/ask)
> 
> want to see updates on my stories? see how things are going? give opinions on what I should write next? hear my rants? follow me [here](https://witchboy-writing.tumblr.com/ask) on tumblr, love.

Julian was afraid. He could feel it on him: _the plague_.  
It had started on a Sunday morning when the sun had burned so brightly and the air had been so fresh and so sweet that it would have been a crime not to open the small window in the library, so Julian did. He let in the fresh air and absorbed the breeze and took in the sights of the palace gardens just before he felt it: a burning in his bones and on his flesh and in his heart and it _hurt_. Julian couldn’t breathe. For a moment, it felt as though someone sucked all the air from his lungs.  
_I am going to die to the plague_, he thought...though, looking back on it, he felt like an idiot.

“The dust from the library must have gone to your lungs, Doctor 069. The plague is no more on you than it is on me.”

“Than why do I feel this way?”

Valdemar laughed under their breath, “Maybe it is love, Dr. Devorak.”  
They had been joking, naturally. However, they were anything but wrong.  
Suddenly, Julian remembered a thousand other times when he had lost his breath, when it had been stolen from him...stolen by you.

The first time Julian could recall was far back in the beginning of his time with you when you had walked into the library the morning of Julian’s first day. Julian could recall how early it was, how tired he was, how _annoyed_ he with the sudden interruption in the room (it had been so quiet before you slammed the door open wide and ran up the library steps). However, Julian could also recall getting a good look at you for the first time. He could recall the tired look in your eyes and the rush in your feet. He could recall how perfect you seemed within how messy your life looked in those few moments. He could recall being unable to focus, unable to breathe. The next instance was only moments later when Julian had wrapped his jacket around you and you grabbed ahold of it like it was the first time someone had offered you a gift, like it meant the world to you, like you would cherish it forever (Julian had not seen the jacket since, and he had no intention of asking for it back).

Julian could recall watching you read book titles, watching the way your lips moved the next several times you returned to the library. He could recall watching as you smiled and rolled your crystal eyes at his jokes and his stories. He could recall the flutter in his heart and deep yearning he felt to earn you for keeps rather than to seduce you in the hopes of having you for a moment, for something so temporary. Julian could recall a million different feelings and wants and desires he had never had before, and they all came back to you inside that little library.

Then Julian remembered the window. He remembered opening it, breathing in the fresh air just before choking on it, just before wishing he had been anywhere else. He remembered seeing you in that little palace garden ...seeing you with _him_. Suddenly it all made sense.

Julian had known he cared for you. He had seen you in a way he had not seen anyone else. He had felt for you in a way that was beyond anything he had ever felt, yet he had not realized what you meant to him until he had seen you with another. To see the same smile that sat upon your face when Julian and yourself were together sit upon your face when in the gardens with Valerius stole his very breathe from his throat. To see you speak with him, smile when he brushed his hand over yours and grip it like it was your life-line, to see you _happy_ with Valerius ...that broke Julian's heart.

You said you had loved Julian and, if that were so (if that was not a lie), you _had_ to have felt something entirely more for Valerius ...Julian could see it in your eyes, and it burned him to the core.

“Love?” Julian asked.  
Valdemar was long gone by then. They were still in the same room, but they were worlds away from Julian's petty questions and skinny love and hidden feelings. Someone like Valdemar cared more for their work and their subjects and their objects more than people ...Julian had thought he was the same until now. After all, he had never loved before...or, at least, not _really_.

Julian had flings that felt like the kind you would hear in a story as a child. He would meet someone so spectacular so suddenly and would hold them and care for them and kiss them and love them...but in the end, that's all it was: a fling. Love (_real_ love) was something Julian had not been certain existed anymore...not after years of searching for it and feeling it only to find out it was nothing at all.

These feelings were the same as all those times before. Julian still got butterflies in his stomach and he smiled far too often for someone who had been commissioned to cure a life-ending plague and he had a want to hold you and brush the hair out of your eyes and when you had started to cry the other night in the library Julian suddenly felt the urge to kiss you over and over again until you smiled ...but that was hardly love, was it? That was exactly what Julian had felt a thousand times over...yet, Julian had never felt it so deeply that he could not identify it before. This was the first time Julian felt it so strong he could not breathe, so strong he thought he was dying. That was certainly new.

“Love.” He said, and this time it was hardly a question.

“You would be better off with the plague.”  
Julian had not expected them to speak again, or that they would be listening to him mumble and think aloud to work through his thoughts and feelings and translate them in a way he could understand, but it seemed they had, and they had a point.

The two were a lot alike. Both were either temporary or deadly (or both, if you are particularly unlucky). Both were horrifying and suffocating. Both were painful. They were the types of events that made you realize what was important in life, what you had missed, what you needed. They both had taken up all of Julian’s time and energy and brainpower and they both made him feel sick to his stomach.

Julian wanted to say it was all good, that the pain in his head and his heart and his stomach were the good kinds that make you blush and smile so much that it is embarrassing, but more than anything recently Julian had just felt pain.

“It does get a bit...complicated, doesn’t it?”  
Valdemar had chosen not to answer again, or not to listen, Julian was no certain which one.  
“At any rate, you are probably right.” He said.

“I always am.” They replied, and Julian felt that they were right. At least, he could not recall a time they had been wrong. They knew what they were doing. It may have been vile and wrong and evil...the kind of work Julian does not talk about or think about or ask questions about, but they had always been _right_ in it nonetheless.

“Well, for his sake, I hope we are both wrong.”

Julian wanted this to be different than all the times before. He wanted this to be real. He wanted to share a bond with you he had shared with no other. Julian wanted more than anything...but it truly had become complicated.

“Uncomplicate it then.” Julian heard a voice say, “Cut it down to the core.”  
And while Valdemar’s words were ...graphic as always, they had a point once again.

Julian _did_ love you.  
He had never admitted it. He had never understood it, but he did. So why make it complicated, he wondered, why hurt ourselves wishing things were different, why not cut it down to the core?

Julian was up before he could thank Valdemar. He was running out the door before he could even think of where he needed to go. He was thinking of the million questions he had to ask and the million apologies he wished to give to you. Julian knew it was risky. He felt like he had been running with scissors. He wanted to use them to uncomplicate, to cut the problems away from your lives and finally be free of your burdens, but Julian knew they could just as easily be used to cut your ties to him for good.

It was a risk, but Julian wanted to take it.  
It was burning his heart, but, for the first time, Julian did not feel as though he was suffocating.  
He felt as though he was truly free.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> comments don't pay the bills, but they certainly make me happy.


	9. Different Today

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Julian had not known you long and, even in the time he had spent with you, you had been silent. You had been a listener more than you had been a speaker. All he truly knew of you was your fierce loyalty to those you loved and those who had loved you. That was something he had never seen waver within you.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> enjoyed this work? want more? requests can be made [here](https://witchboy-writing.tumblr.com/ask)
> 
> want to see updates on my stories? see how things are going? give opinions on what I should write next? hear my rants? follow me [here](https://witchboy-writing.tumblr.com/ask) on tumblr, love.

Julian could feel it. He could feel the pressure and the pain coming off of you as you stood in the library, several feet from his own form.

Julian had not known you long and, even in the time he had spent with you, you had been silent. You had been a listener more than you had been a speaker. All he truly knew of you was your fierce loyalty to those you loved and those who had loved you. That was something he had never seen waver within you.

When Valerius had assigned a task to you there was nothing Julian could say, nothing he could offer that would steer you away from your goal...and Julian would know. He had tried many times to get you to rest with him, each attempt resulting in a smirk from you and a quick, “I will see you tomorrow, Julian” as you ran out the library door back to _him_.

However, you were different today than you had been the first time you walked through those doors...you had been different for a long time now. So much so that ‘today’ was beginning to become the normality for each and everyday. Ever since The Count’s extravagant party, ‘today’ was just like any other day. It meant you forced yourself to pretend you had no heart for Julian, that you did not love him, that you did not know him. Today was just another day, but Julian wished to make it different.

He had tried to get your attention before. He had tried everything from acting as though nothing had happened to bending down on his knees and begging you to go back to the way things had been. However, nothing had broken the loyalty you had for Valerius and Julian, though it broke his heart to even process the thought, was almost certain now as he watched you across the library, looking unfocused and tired and hurt, that your loyalty ran solely with Valerius, that you would put yourself through anything to be with him and to insure his happiness.

“I understand now.” He said abruptly, causing you to fall out of the sleep like state your emotions had put you into as he rose from his desk, turning towards your form, “I understand that you will never break away from him. I do.”

You knew where this was going before Julian had even begun to speak, and when he did start there was a part of you that was ready to turn away, ready to take all you had managed to gather and make a run for the door, tired of hearing the same speech day after day. That part of you was broken and filled with heart-ache. That part of you was not ready to listen to Julian. However, the moment you got a look into his eyes the other side of you that felt that you had to listen struck you still. That part of you could see that something was different about Julian today. You could see a pressure on his chest and you could feel him finally releasing it as he spoke and it caught your attention, made certain you would listen.

“Just tell me one thing.” He continued, “Tell me one thing and I will let you both be, I will put this in the past.”

Julian may have been taking the pressure away from himself, but the more he spoke the more you could feel it falling to you.  
You could feel the hurt, the pain, the feelings you had denied all come back to you and before Julian could even ask the pressing question he always wanted answers to you could feel your heart begin to pound.

Nonetheless, you nodded and Julian continued.  
“Why do you love him?”

If Julian was being honest, he did not expect you to answer his question.  
Julian expected you to roll your eyes or shake your head in disappointment. He expected you to tell him that your feelings and your connection to the one you serve was none of his business, that he should leave you alone, that he should never speak to you again...but you didn’t do any of that.

Instead, you made your way closer to Julian, setting your texts down and grabbing his fists, loosening their tight grip filled with anger and pain, holding them in your own. You were quick to place a hand on his shoulder and to push Julian back into his chair. You smiled at him just before asking:

“Do you truly want to know?”  
Julian could not think back to a time he had nodded his head faster, that he had wanted something more.  
And maybe Julian should not have been so eager to hear someone he loved take him by the hand and tell him they loved another, but Julian could not take another day, another hour without knowing the truth. He had to know why someone like Valerius had taken your heart and held it so firmly.

You leaned yourself against his desk, letting your legs tangle with his in the small space the both of you shared, sighing as you gather the courage to speak, and when you did Julian was in shock.

“Much like many of the royals and courtiers here, I was born in the palace. Just like them, the first sight my eyes took in where the sun stained golden walls of the palace. However, I was not born noble or royal. I was born into service here. I have known nothing but these walls, Julian. I have known nothing but service to the stables or to whichever traveler or noble or coutier the head of the palace decided to throw me with that day and, until I met Valerius, I had known nothing of stability or the feeling of being needed or cherished or cared for. I had never even known love until I met him. The palace walls may be the grand place everyone in the streets only wishes to call home, but for me there was so much _more_ that I wanted that these palace walls had never given me. There is _still_ much that I want, Julian, but Valerius…” You sighed as you gathered your thoughts, slowly loosening your grip from Julian’s hardened grasp, “Valerius was the only person in my life to love me. He may still be young and foolish, he may still have a temper strong enough to scare even the strongest of men, but he has never been anything but good to me and that is why Valerius receives love from me. That is why I love him.”

“And if he left?” Julian asked, “If suddenly Valerius asked you to leave, to go with him away from the palace and these walls? If you did not work for him and you were free to make the choice to be with him? Would you?”

Slowly you rose from Julian’s desk, grabbing hold of your texts and distancing yourself from the man.  
You gripped onto the parchment tight as you thought over Julian’s question, as if they would somehow give you the answer you needed.

“I would go.” You said, making your way towards the stairs, stopping yourself just before ascending, “I would…”

Julian could feel it again. He could feel the pressure he had unloaded onto you falling back to him. He could feel the pain of a love lost and the tear in his heart. Julian, for the first time in a while (but not for the first time in his life), felt the pain of losing a love he thought would last and it had truly broken him. That small part of him that always thought your love for Valerius was a joke, a survival tactic, a scam, broke away from him. The walls shattered and, finally, he could see your feelings for what they really were: truth and love.

“...if no one else asked me first, that is.” You continued, and Julian’s eyes went wide, all the air of disappointment he held in his lungs leaving him breathless, “Loyalty, Julian, comes to those who deserve it. I don’t know about you, but I can think of a man far outside of the realm of Valerius that has shown me just as much kindness and love, a man that deserves just as much loyalty as Valerius...just as much _love,_ Can’t you?”

The smirk you held on your face, the aching in Julian’s heart...maybe things were just like the past after all...maybe today was not any different than it was in the beginning.

Maybe there was hope yet.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> comments don't pay the bills but they certainly make me happy

**Author's Note:**

> comments don't pay the bills, but they certainly make me happy.


End file.
